Page 95 of The Smuggler’s Escape

“I am willing to help you escape the gallows, but there’s very little time. You must leave England immediately.”

Inside, Noelle turned to ice. She stood. “What are you talking about?”

“Hush,” Lady Ariadne said, her eyes flickering to the door and back. “We don’t have long. Sit down and listen to me.”

Richard had warned her away from Lady Ariadne.

Why?

Suspicion began horridly to dawn. She wanted to trust Richard, but she couldn’t. He might want to protect her . . . Or on the other hand, he might want just the opposite.

That made sense in a heart-breaking way. Her vague suspicions had proven right. He’d never loved her—witness how he’d seduced and abandoned her. Why would he return and suddenly demand to marry her?

Because he knew he wouldn’t have to.

Because he believed she was a spy.

Noelle sat. Lady Ariadne leaned closer, speaking in low tones. Noelle listened as if her life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

Lady Ariadne said, “I’m your only chance, my dear. I have a soft spot for you—you’ve been most kind to my daughters—and I shall help you run home to France, if you will do me a small favor in return.”

Noelle thought about this and decided, for the moment, to say as little as possible. She frowned enquiringly at Lady Ariadne.

“Haven’t you put it all together? I thought, considering the way that dreadful Darsington woman was gabbling tonight, that you would know by now.” She paused. “Lord Boltwood is the man sent by the government to catch the spy.”

That seemed all too likely. His father had been a government official connected with the Home Office. Richard was friendly with Dorothea Darsington, whose father now worked there. Maybe he really did want to marry Dorothea.

For some reason, that was the hardest to believe of all. But . . . what had he and Dorothea been discussing in the corridor last night?

“I admit, I found it hard to credit, but for the love of his country, an Englishman must be willing to bestir himself,” Lady Ariadne said. “Lord Boltwood knows both the area and many of the smugglers.”

“True,” Noelle whispered.

Lady Ariadne’s voice purred on. “Of course, Sir Frederick Darsington mightn’t have thought of asking Lord Boltwood for help if it weren’t for his pursuit of poor Miss Darsington.”

“She doesn’t want to marry him,” Noelle said. Not that it mattered at this point, but conclude what she might about Richard—who was slippery as an eel, and of whom anything might be possible—she couldn’t believe it of Dorothea.

“Come now, who wouldn’t be captivated by such a handsome, charming man? Lady Darsington says the poor girl is putting on a brave face but is in danger of going into a decline over his supposed infatuation with you, but once this is over, Lord Boltwood will explain and make her a happy woman again.”

No. Whatever Richard intended, something about this tale of Lady Ariadne’s was very, very wrong.

Noelle must have looked as perplexed as she felt, for Lady Ariadne tittered. “You didn’t seriously believe he would marry you, did you? He knows what is due his position. Lust is one thing, my dear, and marriage another entirely.”

Noelle listed and discarded possibilities, thinking hard.

Lady Ariadne laughed again. “You poor deluded child, he has already bedded you, hasn’t he? That was foolish of you, but hardly surprising. Boltwood has a way with women. He certainly had no problem seducing you.”

Noelle’s gaze lingered on the queen of hearts, face up on the table where they had laid down their cards. Queen of his heart—or nothing but a fool?

Or something in between.

“All part of the plan, of course—to get you where he can put his hands on you, once he has gathered proof.”

“You’re not making sense,” Noelle said. “Where would I get information that would be of the least use to France?”

“You have visited my house twice a week for nigh on two years. My husband does a great deal of confidential work for our government. You have had plenty of opportunity to search for secret documents.”